


You Don't Have To Be Cold

by AliceMoranMoriarty



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feeding Kink, Forced Feeding, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Malnourished, Other, Starving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMoranMoriarty/pseuds/AliceMoranMoriarty
Summary: Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle return to Wayne Manor briefly to gather information on the current lead of their investigation to find the Wayne's Murderer,both malnourished and looking sick from their time on the streets in winter. Alfred is worried sick, and does caring in the rough and not quite recommended way he normally does.Bruce takes a moment in Selina's company to wonder if he has to punish himself all the time.Slight underage sexual vibes but nothing graphic.





	You Don't Have To Be Cold

When Bruce comes back Alfred feels something between rage, shock and disappointment. His boy had never been plump or even heavily built, never been muscular, but now, returning with the wretched girl, both of them look thin. Far too thin. There's a darkness under their eyes, and a hollow to their cheeks that he's used to seeing on the grubby face of Selina Kyle but is troubling on Bruce. Part of him feels guilty for never caring much about the hunger of Selina, or the other streetkids until Bruce became one of them.  
Bruce acts cold, seems set in his self destructive winter holiday to learn about the hungry homeless and criminal of Gotham. Unlike Selina as he brings out cookies, pastries and tea, he hasn't got the self preservation to eat what he can when he can.   
Knowing the boy, Alfred thinks, beneath it all the lack of food has become a choice, another punishment under a thin lie.  
Selina stuffs another cupcake into her cheeks and slurps down a full of glass of milk, enjoying every bite whilst Bruce stays still and silent, probably itching to get back to the hairy undershirt this city has become for him.

The thought of Bruce going back, getting thinner, being shot at and threatened and beaten and sleeping in the cold hits Alfred suddenly with a force he can't ignore.  
“You're not bloody going back out there.” He grumbles, voice low.  
Snapping out of some tortured thought, Bruce stares at him. “I have to. I told you, I can't come back yet. I have to do this.”  
Alfred let the lid of the tea tray slam on the table, noise enough to stun both undernourished teenagers.   
“Yes, of course you bloody do. You have to go and martyr and punish yourself some more, because that will really fucking help. Is it her? By all means, keep her!” He gestured to Selena, who pulled a face at the idea she was some kind of pet.  
“You want to chase danger with her, have hormones and be edgy, fine by bloody me, but you will not starve yourself out there. Not on my watch.”

Bruce had flushed and rose to his feet, taller now than he had been when he'd left. Righteous anger filled his eyes, too large and dark now for his face.  
“You can't demand anything of me, Alfred. You're my butler. You cannot demand me to stay.”   
Alfred stormed towards him, in his space and furious.  
“I am your Guardian. And you're going to stay here and eat some fucking dinner, and that is that. With her too.”

Selina twisted her head, always willing to pry into a situation that wasn't benefitting her yet. “Not that I'm against dinner, Jeeves, but what can you do if he says no? Exactly?”

Alfred, expression stormy. “You're going to regret asking that.”   
-

Bruce coughed as he came to, lightly but firmly strapped to a chair in the kitchen, with Selena awake and annoyed beside him. She squirmed and twisted, trying to get the knife from her pocket, before she realised it had been removed.  
“Not funny, Jeeves! I would have had dinner anyway!”   
Bruce winced at the volume, and felt a heavy throbbing pain at the side of his temple. “Did Alfred knock me out?” His voice seemed weak to his own ears.

“Uhuh. Seemed crazy pissed off. Said if you didn't want to feed yourself he'd do it.” Selena squirmed in her own ties. “So...thanks for that. Your butler has turned into a crazy guy who probably wants to force feed us butter. You could have just said yes to Dinner…”

Bruce let out an anxious breath. “Alfred? Let me go! Immediately. Or...or you're fired!” He could hear his voice shake. So confident.

Alfred appeared from the other side of the kitchen, and gave a bitter grin. “Not going to work right this minute, Sir. You can try firing me in the morning and we'll see how that goes. Firstly…” He carried two large plates of hot cheesy pasta to the table, and placed them in front of the teenagers. Kat made a hungry noise. “Untie me, man. I can feed myself super good.”

Bruce felt the smell wash over him, and was suddenly feeling a lot less tied to the idea of being obstinate about it. In reality, if he was honest with himself, he was starving. He wanted every bite of the pasta before him, possibly more. It was just that self denial had become intoxicating recently. In more ways than one.

“It’s nothing fancy but it's hot and comforting and should fill you up.” Alfred hummed, like this was daily butlering, straight from the handbook. He pulled at the rope behind Selina and she went straight for the fork in her dish of food. “No funny business, Miss Kyle.” He murmured, and she didn't bother to answer, mouth full of pasta.

Bruce paled as Alfred lifted a forkful of pasta to his mouth. “Eat. Now.” His voice wasn't unkind, a little gruff as always. Giving in, on most fronts, Bruce accepted the mouthful with a reproachful gaze and made a soft noise at the sensation of hot flavourful food on his tongue.  
After that he didn't need much encouraging. 

He ate mouthful after mouthful as Alfred fed him, sometimes making a soft noise if the food took too long to come to his lips. Part of him felt hot and embarrassed at being fed like a child, and in front of Kat, but she seemed to engaged in her own bowl to give him a glance. 

Then his dish was empty, and Alfred looked more relaxed, relief filling the air around him like a wave. Bruce breathed out, and felt the weight of the food inside him, dense and filling his aching limbs with warmth. He felt full, uncomfortably tight, but still.  
Part of him craved more, still greedy for a few more bites, after feeling like he'd never be satiated again. 

His butler stood, taking both emptied bowls, and walked back to the other end of the kitchen. He began pouring them each glasses of juice, and Bruce finally spoke.  
“...Alfred, I-”

“Another helping each?” The butler suggested, even as he was already refilling each bowl. Selina hummed her agreement, moving to take her pasta and juice from him. Bruce merely nodded, as Alfred followed her back. His cheeks were warming up, and he didn't understand how the shame, hot and twisting in his stomach, somehow felt so good elsewhere. He felt Selina's eyes on him, as she licked sauce from her fork. His hips twitched involuntarily and he fought hard for control.  
This was the worst possible time for hormones to betray him.  
Alfred was sat beside him again, lifting the glass to his lips. Bruce drank, greedily and even his ears were pink when he belched.   
Alfred was chuckling now, a reassured smirk on his face. “Better indeed.” He murmured to himself as he began to feed Bruce once more.   
Selina stopped halfway through her bowl, with a soft grunt of satisfaction, and curled herself up in the chair to watch Bruce chew and swallow bite after bite hungrily.   
“Thanks, Butler man. That was so awesome.”  
Bruce didn't catch her eye, stayed focused on chewing and swallowing as the weight inside him grew heavier and tighter. She giggled, head on one side.   
“I guess the kid just isn't used to the city diet.” She hummed, voice full of amusement. “Seriously this is good for you, Kid. You're no good at grazing. No wonder you got so skinny.”   
He felt himself squirm under the comments, but Alfred seemed insistent that he emptied the bowl. He stopped for breath, trying not to seem so overwhelmed. In the short time, his stomach caught up with him, suddenly aching and too tight.  
“Alfred, I can't...have anymore. I'm so full. It hurts.” He gasped, head leant back against the chair.   
“Just a few bites. And you're staying here until you've gained some weight back. Promise me.” Alfred growled, fork midway through the air.

Bruce caught the eyes that were boring into his, and saw the fear, worry and affection hidden under bluff and anger. “I promise, Alfred.” He murmured.

Alfred held up the next bite, the worried creases smoothed from his face.

-

Hours later, bathed and warm in soft pyjamas in a dark room, Bruce felt himself drifting off, more relaxed , more comfortable than he'd felt in months. His stomach was still heavy and full, bloated looking against his still scrawny frame but still small enough that his old pyjamas felt loose. He wondered if perhaps Alfred was right. If this was less about education for him and more about punishment. Either way, he was drifting off, so warm and heavy that sleep was hard to fight off.  
But he was aware of soft barely there footprints on the expensive carpeting. A lithe warm body curled up next to his under the covers and her soft lips pressed against his shoulder. “Hey Kid. How do you feel?” Kat murmured, hand moving to rest against his chest.  
For one thing he felt more than awake now. She never got this close, never pressed her body against his like this. His semi new teen urges screamed. He willed himself not to get hard.   
“Full.” He murmured, embarrassed in the dark. “Not angry though. Not sure if I should be.”

Kat giggled, sliding her body over his till her warm weight straddled his hips. His mouth popped open, looking up at how pretty she was, all soft curves on top of him. Against him. Damn it.  
“You feel full.” She murmured, fingers sliding over the gentle swell of his swollen stomach. “ It's kind of adorable. I wouldn't be mad. Looks kind of like you needed it, kiddo.” 

Bruce trembled at the touch, eyes slipping closed. Tentatively, he reached up and placed his hands over her hips. “You crept into my bed in the middle of the night, Kat. I think Alfred would be-”  
“Alfred isn't here now.” Kat interrupted, pressing gently against the side of his poor tight stomach. He gasped. “I am. And I came because...because, maybe we shouldn't /just/ make out after someone tries to kill us.” She mumbled, and leaned down.  
He couldn't see fine details in the dark, but didn't need to as her lips pressed against his, sweet and hungry. Her fingers dragged over his stomach, and her hips began to move against his and…

And Bruce Wayne forgot about punishing himself that night. Maybe some nights it didn't have to be a fight with his guilt. Some nights could be warm and soft and safe and ...OK.   
And that could be okay, too.


End file.
